


what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object

by arcticpng



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: :3, Alternate Universe - College/University, Chaptered, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Musician Akaashi Keiji, Violinist Akaashi Keiji, i guess since they're college age, or at least i think it's light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-10-17 09:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcticpng/pseuds/arcticpng
Summary: In which Akaashi is a busking violinist and Bokuto is a bystander that falls spiky head over heels in love.





	1. i've been hearing symphonies

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off off clean bandit's song "symphony"! i highly recommend that you go listen to it, and if you happen to watch the music video, don't worry. this won't be nearly as sad as that.

Even someone as simple-minded as Bokuto Koutarou could appreciate sakura in the spring, which is why he decided to detour his usual walk to Fukurodani University so that it cut through the wooded Yamiji Park. 

He began at the southern entrance, making his way up. The landscape was brilliant with pink cherry blossoms that fell and fluttered to the grass adjacent to the concrete path. Occasionally, a jogger would pass him or a mother with a stroller. What completed the scenery was the sweet sound of violin strings reaching Bokuto’s ears.

As he approached the very center of the park, the music became louder. What he then saw made him stop, bagel partially raised towards his face, mouth hanging open. Bokuto’s eyes weren’t focused on the intricate, four-tiered, stone fountain in the center of the clearing, but instead on what was truly the most beautiful thing he has seen in the park that day. Or rather, _who_.

In front of the fountain stood a young man, around Bokuto’s age. He carried himself elegantly, violin posed on his shoulder as his body swayed with the movement of his bow. Black hair framed his serene countenance. His piercing green eyes were half-lidded, yet they still looked like if they happened to fall upon Bokuto, they’d see right through any defenses he might’ve tried to put against them.

_Woah._

When the man finished is song, the small crowd that had gathered gave scattered applause. Some people walked up to him to toss spare change into the open violin case resting beside him. He replied with quiet _thank you_ s.

Bokuto would’ve joined the crowd by giving the violinist all the money he had on him if it had not been for how A) he was a broke college student and B) he realized that staying to hear the music made him late to his first class.

♪♪♪

That afternoon, Bokuto could be found sitting in the chemistry section of Fukurodani’s library. Kuroo was standing, sifting through the books. Bokuto sat across the aisle from him, with Kenma to the right of him, cross-legged and occupied with some game.

Bokuto was in the middle of telling his friend about his morning. “You should have seen him!” he shouted excitedly. 

The bespeckled student volunteer currently working sent him a sharp “Shh!” from a couple aisles down.

The owlish man continued dreamily, as if he hadn’t even heard. “He had the prettiest hair—”

“I beg to differ,” Kuroo interjected, jerking his head to indicate his own bedhead.

“Something must’ve brought me to him. Like fate,” Bokuto declared.

Kuroo looked down at his slightly delusional friend. “So did you get his number?”

“Ugh, no,” Bokuto groaned, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I was already running late to Stats.”

The same man shushed them again as he passed by with a cart full of books. The group limited themselves to the sound of Kenma’s PSP sounds until he was a farther distance away.

“Well what’s pretty boy’s name then?” Kuroo continued his questioning.

“I— I didn’t get that either,” Bokuto sheepishly mumbled.

“Wait wait wait,” Kuroo looked up and paused his examination of _Complete Chemistry Vol. 2_ ’s back cover. “You are currently, absolutely smitten for this guy, correct?”

“Correct.”

“And you have no idea who he is?”

“Well-”

“Besides the fact that you saw him play violin one time in a part of town that you rarely ever go by.”

“Correct.”

Kuroo hummed and tapped his pointer finger on his chin thoughtfully. “That’s some kind of fate you got there. Seems like the odds are really in your favor.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve known Kenma for like, eleven years,” Bokuto huffed. There was no need for Kuroo’s sarcasm. What Bokuto needed was sympathy for his situation.

“For your information,” Kuroo began pointedly and gently kicked Bokuto’s hand to get him to stop picking at the library’s carpet, “it’s actually been twelve.”

“Unfortunately,” Kenma spoke up from the floor.

Kuroo nudged him with the toe of his shoe, to which Kenma just responded with an eye roll.

Bokuto’s face fell. “I’ll probably never see him again,” he lamented. He let his face flop into his palms. His friends were used to him doing this often: yelling with excitement one minute and whining with dejection in the next.

“Aw, cheer up, Bo.” Kuroo crouched down and patted his back sympathetically. “Maybe he’s a murderer or something. You never know.”

The PSP let out the tell-tale sound effect of the end of a level. Kenma looked up, confused, and plainly asked, “Couldn’t you just try to talk to him again tomorrow morning? Don’t buskers usually stick to one spot to perform?”

Bokuto looked up with bright eyes. “Kenma! You’re a genius!”

Kenma didn’t need to be told this.

They all turned around when they heard the library volunteer stomping up to them. He started, “If you don’t _shut the hell up_ —” but he was quickly pulled away by a slightly shorter man with freckles who mouthed an apologetic _sorry_ while steering the other man towards the history section by his shoulders.


	2. keiji

In Shirofuku Theatre, a man stood in his dressing room, examining himself in the mirror. His usually quite messy, black hair was straightened and slicked back against his head. He adjusted the bow tie to his sleek suit that had specially tailored for tonight’s show.

Tonight would be the fifth and last performance in his series of sold out shows at Shirofuku.

Two polite knocks were given by one of the stage hands before she peeked her head inside the room. 

“Five minutes ‘til show time,” she warned.

He dismissed her with a polite smile and took one last good look at himself before heading to his position in the wings. On the way, staff gave him encouraging words and claps on the back. Over the past few days, he’d gotten quite comfortable with them. It’s be nice to return here sometime. He took a mental note to ask his booking agent for this venue again.

Behind the curtain, he could hear the chatter of the crowd. The cool demeanor he usually kept was melting away into gushing excitement. The thought that he’d see thousands of faces who valued him enough to some to his simple, solo shows always filled his heart with joy. He was lucky to have such an enthusiastic fan base and supportive friends to boost him to where he was today. Selling out five consecutive shows felt like a dream.

Now high on energy, he thought about how much his exciting nightlife heavily contrasted his plain mornings.

The lights dimmed, gushing the crowd. He took a deep breath before puffing his chest out and strutting to the center of the stage where his violin was perched on a stand, awaiting him. 

Gently, the performer picked up his prized possession and placed it next to his neck. Then he took his bow and dramatically held it still over the strings. He liked to make the crowd wait, sitting on the edge if their seats, for the first note.

The tension in the crowd dissipated as he began his first song. It was one of the more recognizable, better-selling pieced that he’d composed. A bit on the calmer side, but he always liked to star his shows off slow. 

With each pull of his bow, the crowd allowed themselves to be lulled further into a trance.

Broom in hand, Akaashi Keiji watched this scene unfold from the sidelines of the stage, wishing it were him.

♪♪♪

In order to get by, Akaashi Keiji set a strict schedule for himself.

At the moment, he was lacing up his boots in the small apartment he had occupied for the last year and a half. It wasn't lavishly furnished or in the nicest of complexes, but he had to made do for two reasons.

In his third year of high school, he came out as bisexual to his parents. 

At first, they seemed to be accepting — almost indifferent — but they eventually began to make snide comments that’d creep under his skin. Whenever they got the opportunity, they’d make casual remarks on how he was _basically straight_ or _basically gay_ or _needed to choose one already_.

When he tried to speak out and correct them, they’d just tell him that he was being too serious and that he needed to get a sense of humor, irritating him enough to have him start apartment hunting.

Not to mention their attitude towards his music.

 _You need to have something to fall back on_ , his mother would say sweetly. 

_It's just not practical_ , his father would remind him.

Seeing that they weren't going to come around anytime soon, he left immediately after graduation. Leaving his old home to start a new life was bittersweet.

He was naive to think that as soon as he’d move out, he would stop thinking about his past when in reality, the walls that surrounded him served as a constant reminder of who backed him into this corner.

He could only hope that his music career would pick up and pick up fast.

For someone so out of luck, they were big dreams, but the thought of one day standing on stage, with thousands to applaud him, was what kept him fighting.

Between cleaning and busking, in those early hours of the morning while the city slept, he would practice. And write. And practice some more.

His neighbors would rise to the sound of birds chirping along to Akaashi’s last song, perched on his small balcony.

Then the man would prepare to go out. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, styled his hair, then got dressed in clothes that were appropriate for the season’s weather. At 6, he ate a light breakfast and put on his shoes. By 6:30, he had walked from his apartment to the inner part of the city with his violin case on his back.

He was aware that the time he worked was ridiculous, but diligently he kept this routine going.

Generally, nothing interrupted it.

Today was going to be a nice day. He could feel it as he stepped out to the apartment building. The clear sky gave no indication of rain, and the subtle breeze wasn’t strong enough to blow away any money thrown into his shallow case.

A fifteen minute walk brought Akaashi to his usual fountain to begin preparing for his show. Today seemed like the ideal day. On weekend mornings, more people tended to go out, and their Friday paychecks made them more generous.

He gently set his case down on the ground and brought his violin.

Bokuto arrived on time to see the man from yesterday checking the tuning of his violin. Thankfully he hadn't started playing yet, so Bokuto still had an opportunity to talk to him.

His heart started beating a little faster thinking about how he looked just as beautiful if not better than yesterday. He tore his eyes away and turned his back to give himself a second to become composed.

And stop his cheeks from getting too red.

_Okay Bo, just remember the advice Kuroo gave you yesterday._

_“If it doesn't work out you, you’re always welcome to come back and cry on our cou-”_

_No, not that one._

_“Just be confident in yourself! One of the top five spikers in the county during high school! Former national-level ace!”_

_Yeah…_

_Yeah!_

_YEA-_

A tap on the back interrupted his thoughts.

“Excuse me, sir. Did you need help?” 

Bokuto craned his head to see that the pretty man had abandoned his spot by the fountain and walked up to him. Quickly, he turned the rest of his body to face him.

“Hehe… Why would you think I need help?” He asked, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“You had your eyes closed, and you looked constipated.” 

Bokuto noticed that his voice held significantly less emotion than his music. The green eyes that looked into his appeared to hold no feeling towards him. There was only slight concern that this stranger might be on the verge of getting sick all over the park square.

“Really?” Bokuto squeaked. _Was my voice always that high?_ “You could see that?”

“You were standing like, ten feet away,” the other man said. “Fifteen tops.”

Bokuto felt his confidence slipping away fast, so before it completely faded, he decided to let everything out in one go: 

“HELLO MY NAME IS BOKUTO KOUTAROU AND I’D REALLY LIKE TO GO ON A COFFEE DATE WITH YOU.”

With a scrunched up nose and a mildly confused expression, he simply replied, “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> savage
> 
> well that’s it guys i hope you all enjoyed my first fic remember to kudos, comment, and bookmark :))))
> 
> jk jk jk there's more
> 
> and i know there was a big info dump in the middle but [shrug emoji]


End file.
